


The Sunrise

by ChristineRose



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Rants, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 19:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13933680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristineRose/pseuds/ChristineRose
Summary: Spoilers up to 8.09.A drabble based on Carl Grimes' last moments.





	The Sunrise

I didn’t think I would survive long enough to see another sunrise.

That was the thought my exhausted brain kept centering around. The sunrise. As far as last sights went, I couldn’t complain. Though I would admit, the smoky haze from Alexandria burning was making it hard to appreciate it. That, and the fact that I knew that it’d be one of the last things I’d see.

I could feel my eyelid getting heavier. _Would death be like going to sleep?_ I wondered. I had my brushes with death before. When I was shot in the woods before the Greene farm. When I was shot in the eye by Ron’s stray bullet. This moment felt different. There was the same feeling of sluggishness that set in my bones, making it harder to move, harder to continue drawing a breath. What was different was that the feeling of determination – the spark that told me _keep fighting, you can get through this,_ wasn’t there. Probably because I knew it was fruitless.

My death was coming. I had said my goodbyes to everyone, some more painful than others. I had done everything in my power my last day to make sure that everyone in Alexandria was as safe and happy as could be expected. I had tried, I really had.

I still didn’t feel like it was enough. Maybe, no matter what I did, I would always feel that. It was partially the vestiges of guilt that rested in me over that kid I had shot from the prison. He couldn’t have been much older than I was now. That might have been irony being cruel to me or might have been just coincidence. I didn’t know what I preferred. Didn’t much matter, now.

I breathed in, letting out a hacking cough. The ground was digging into my back.

Would I see everyone I had lost again? I wasn’t sure if I believed in the afterlife anymore. More so, even if there was one, I wasn't sure I'd be let into whatever Heaven existed. I had tried to be good more often than I tried to be bad. That had to count for something, right? Images of Mom, Glenn, and Sophia swirled in my head. There had been so many I had lost. I knew I wasn’t remembering all of them, but my overtaxed brain refused to cooperate.

I didn’t want to go. There was still so much that I wanted to do. I wanted to see this fight through to the end, no matter what the outcome would be. I wanted to see Alexandria built as I had envisioned it. I knew it could be as I saw it, with some work and determination. My Dad could do it. My Dad, Michonne, everyone could do it. I believed in them.

My senses felt dulled, much trying to hear a voice yelling underwater. I knew something was happening but it was muffled and hard to make out.

My fist tightened in a clasp before I released it. I was surprised by the sudden onslaught of anger. I shook my head with amazing difficulty. I would not let rage be the last emotion I felt. Even if a part of me thought it was bullshit – no, unbelievable – that it ended up being a walker bite that sealed the deal. I had faced down hundreds of the things and had been pinned by one in a similar fashion when I was younger and scrawnier, but a simple, shallow scrape of the teeth was what did me in.

I guess that didn’t matter, either. Nothing mattered. I was here and...that was it.

Dad’s poignant words came to mind _. You are not safe. It only takes one second. One second and it's over. Never let your guard down, ever. I want you to promise me._

I had promised him. I guess I had broken that promise.

I had told him, after he finished his speech, that _we're strong enough that we can still help people, we're strong enough that we don't have to be afraid._ I still believed that. I could only hope he did, too.

_People are gonna die. I'm gonna die. Mom. There's no way you can ever be ready for it._

Dad had a way of always being able to know what to say and when to say it. Tonight, for most of it, he had sat in silence. He had held me, cared for me through the night – but for most of it he seemed blank. I didn’t think he was ready for any of this, either. Like he couldn't comprehend what was happening. My brain flashed to how he dealt with losing Mom. I knew Michonne could pull him back from that ledge, but I hoped that with our proper goodbye he'd feel more at peace. I hoped my reassurances put him at ease. I didn’t blame him for this. I didn’t want him, or Michonne, to ever think I did. As shitty…as horrible as this was, it just happened.

The haze from smoke was slowly starting to clear. It was beautiful outside. The sun was finally able to filter through the filthy, stained glass. I longed to be able to stand up and feel the sunshine on my face just one more time. I could barely grasp my gun, let alone stand.

Dad and Michonne were expecting me to finish the job. I had to do it. I couldn’t let either of them carry something like that with them.

It took every last bit of energy I had to grasp my gun.

Wow, this was…really it.

_Goodnight, loves,_ I thought. I took a shuddering breath and heard the soft sound of a silenced gunshot.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this mostly to make myself feel better after watching 8.09. Carl Grimes has been one of my favorite characters since the beginning and it hurt to lose him a bit. I wanted to write this to help explore more of Carl's emotions than just 'acceptance.'


End file.
